Chapter 2 - THE WIFE WHO STOPPED WAITING
At 6:10 the next morning, Stefan found Elara in the nursery folding newborn clothes.
He stood in the doorway for several seconds.
There was something unnerving about the ordinary scene.
Tiny white sleepers.
A stack of blankets.
Elara's hair twisted loosely at the back of her neck.
His daughter moving beneath the pale fabric of her dress.
Everything looked like home.
Nothing felt like it.
"My flight leaves Friday."
Elara folded another blanket.
"I know."
"I'll be back Wednesday."
She finally looked at him.
"Will you?"
The question irritated him because he could not determine what she meant by it.
"Elara."
"You don't need to give me your itinerary anymore."
"I've always given you my itinerary."
"And you've been sleeping with another woman for five months. Apparently information isn't the same thing as honesty."
Stefan's jaw tightened.
"I told you the truth when you asked."
She almost smiled.
"Do you want credit for confessing after I found the reservation?"
"No."
"Good."
He entered the nursery.
For years, Stefan's physical presence had been enough to change the atmosphere of a room. Men twice Elara's size reconsidered sentences when he moved toward them.
She merely continued folding.
"Camille doesn't mean what you think she means."
Elara's hands stopped.
"That's interesting."
"What?"
"Yesterday you said the trip wasn't about Camille. Today Camille doesn't mean what I think she means. You keep explaining everything except why you chose her."
He had no answer that did not sound ugly.
Because Camille had been easy.
Because she demanded nothing emotional.
Because when she looked at Stefan, she saw power before she saw a man.
Elara had known him before the empire.
She remembered the apartment with the broken radiator.
She remembered when Voss Atlantic consisted of one leased warehouse, two trucks and debts Stefan hid inside a desk drawer.
She knew exactly how ordinary he could be.
Camille made him feel invincible.
Elara made him remember he wasn't.
"I made a mistake," he said.
"Five months isn't a mistake. It's a subscription."
Despite himself, Stefan almost reacted.
Elara returned the folded sleeper to the drawer.
"I'm going to stay with my mother while you're gone."
His expression changed instantly.
"No."
She stared at him.
Stefan heard the word himself.
Not concern.
Not a request.
An order.
Elara closed the drawer.
"You don't get to say no."
"You're thirty-four weeks pregnant."
"Thirty-five on Sunday."
"Exactly."
"My mother has electricity and running water, Stefan."
"Your mother lives ninety minutes from your hospital."
"I changed hospitals."
That landed.
"When?"
"At five this morning."
His eyes narrowed.
"To where?"
"Women's College."
"Your specialist is at St. Joseph's."
"Not anymore."
"You made that decision without telling me?"
Elara looked at him for a long moment.
Then she laughed once.
It wasn't amused.
"You really want to discuss spouses making unilateral decisions?"
Stefan went silent.
She moved past him.
His hand lifted automatically, almost touching her arm.
He stopped himself.
That hesitation hurt her more than contact might have.
Once, his hands had been home.
Now even he seemed uncertain whether he had the right to touch her.
By Thursday evening, Stefan's luggage was downstairs.
Elara watched Tobias load it into the SUV.
Camille would meet Stefan at Pearson.
He had not said so.
He didn't need to.
Before leaving, Stefan found Elara in the library.
"If you need anything—"
"I have your number."
"Call Tobias first."
"No."
His brow tightened.
"Elara."
"I don't want one of your men reporting when I sleep, where I go or what I eat."
"They're security."
"They're surveillance."
"They keep you alive."
"Maybe I want to find out whether I can survive without being managed."
His expression hardened.
"This isn't a game."
"No. It stopped being one Tuesday at 9:52."
The SUV waited outside.
For the first time, Stefan looked uncertain about leaving.
"Don't do anything reckless."
Elara rested both hands over their daughter.
"I won't."
It was technically true.
She had no intention of being reckless.
She intended to be precise.
At 7:16 p.m., Stefan's convoy disappeared through the gates.
At 7:22, Elara called Lucian.
He answered on the second ring.
"Mrs. Voss?"
"I need you to come to the house."
A pause.
"Does Stefan know?"
"No."
A longer pause.
"I'll be there in forty minutes."
"Come alone."
Forty-three minutes later, Lucian Moretti entered Stefan's library and found six years of financial records spread across the desk.
He stopped breathing for a moment.
Elara sat behind the desk.
"You recognize them."
Lucian closed the door.
"Where did you get these?"
"I reconciled them."
"Elara."
"Sit down."
He didn't.
She pushed a folder toward him.
"Three shell companies. Northglass Holdings. Meridian Seven. Calloway Maritime."
Lucian's face changed.
She noticed.
"Interesting."
"You don't understand what you're looking at."
"I understand accounting."
"You understand numbers. This is different."
"Then explain why seventeen million dollars moved through companies that don't appear in Voss Atlantic's disclosed holdings."
Lucian stared at her.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
Elara nodded.
"Then I'll find someone who can."
He moved toward the desk.
"Don't."
The sharpness in his voice made her freeze.
Not because it frightened her.
Because Lucian was frightened.
She had known him nine years.
He had been shot twice without raising his voice.
Now his hands were trembling.
"Elara, whatever you think Stefan has done, do not send those records anywhere."
"Why?"
Lucian looked toward the closed door.
Then back at her.
"Because some of those accounts aren't Stefan's."
The room seemed to narrow.
"Whose are they?"
Lucian swallowed.
"Armon Dry's."
The name struck like cold water.
Camille's uncle.
The man Stefan was flying across an ocean to meet.
"The Halifax deal," Elara whispered.
"Isn't a deal."
Lucian finally sat.
"It's an exit."
"Whose exit?"
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained of color.
"Stefan."
"Answer it."
Lucian did.
"Yeah?"
Stefan's voice was faint through the receiver.
"Where are you?"
Lucian looked directly at Elara.
"Office."
Elara understood instantly.
He had just lied to the most dangerous man he knew.
Stefan was silent.
Then:
"Funny."
Lucian's eyes closed.
"Because Tobias says your car is outside my house."
Elara felt her daughter kick.
Three thousand miles away, Stefan Voss had already realized something was wrong.
But the most dangerous thing in that room wasn't the secret account.
It was the sentence Lucian had not yet finished.
Elara waited until the call ended.
Then she asked again.
"Whose exit?"
Lucian looked at the woman his best friend had betrayed.
May you like
And finally told her.
"Yours."
